


Quake

by LittleRit



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Abusive Reginald Hargreeves, Aftermath of Possession, Angry Number Five | The Boy, Angst, Ben Hargreeves is a bit of an asshole, Ben Hargreeves living for the moment, Bitter Diego Hargreeves, Brain Damage, Brain damaged Klaus Hargreeves, Episode: s02e06 A Light Supper, Episode: s02e07 Öga for Öga, Family Feels, Gen, Ghost Ben Hargreeves, Grumpy Number Five | The Boy, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Hurt/Comfort, Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves Whump, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, Klaus has seizures, Number Five cares about his siblings really, POV Ben Hargreeves, POV Diego Hargreeves, POV Klaus Hargreeves, POV Luther Hargreeves, POV Vanya Hargreeves, Possession, Prompt Fill, Protective Luther Hargreeves, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Seizures, Sibling Bonding, Soft Luther Hargreeves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26068453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleRit/pseuds/LittleRit
Summary: Klaus is seizing again.The seizures are nothing new, Klaus has been shaking and shuddering his way through emotionally stressful situations since they were kids. It’s about as welcome as Diego’s own stutter – so not at all – but they got pretty used to it in the years before the academy split apart and even after all the years apart it’s not a shock. Nobody can quite remember when they started – and nobody is really sure they weren’t induced by the drugs because god knows they had all cottoned on to that particular habit at different times.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 140
Kudos: 750





	1. A light supper

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, and I never write fiction let alone fan-fic, so please be kind. I'm also a Brit so if I've dropped any Brit-isms in here please let me know what the American equivalent is (For example, we call elevators 'lifts', so y'know, that one was fun to try and catch in my notes).
> 
> This fic will hopefully mash two prompts together - I say hopefully because I haven't finished writing it yet! If you want the prompt descriptions I've put those in the end notes so these top ones don't spoil anything.
> 
> For clarity this is set in season two and mostly follows s2 canon - if I don't change or mention it in the story, just assume canon bumbles along as we know it from the show :)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Klaus is seizing again.

The seizures are nothing new, Klaus has been shaking and shuddering his way through emotionally stressful situations since they were kids. It’s about as welcome as Diego’s own stutter – so not at all – but they got pretty used to it in the years before the academy split apart and even after all the years apart it’s not a shock. Nobody can quite remember when they started – and nobody is really sure they weren’t induced by the drugs because god knows they had all cottoned on to _that_ particular habit at different times.

“Is he having a seizure?” Well, maybe Allison has had time to forget, two years in the sixties and all the years before living it up in LA…

“Overdosing probably.”

….and ok, _m_ _aybe_ he should be slightly more concerned when one of their siblings goes from staring at their drink to convulsing with their arms in the air at the dinner table, but honestly? This is nowhere on the Klaus-o-meter of attention-seeking moves, and Diego is way past his daily allowance of shit to deal with. So sue him if he doesn’t quite believe this one – this seizure that is just a little too conveniently timed to distract from the conversation, but _after_ Diego got ripped to shreds by their father and the immediate threat of that cutting tongue switching targets has passed. Plus, it’s not like the seizures he remembers, where Klaus would lose his balance, the ones that always end with Klaus on the floor. This is all very dramatic - a good upper body judder, arms flailing in the air – but he’s only affected from the table up? Nah Diego’s not buying it.

“ _Klaus!_ Now is _not the time_ , what are you _doing?!_ ” And from that hiss it sounds like Five isn’t buying it either. Well he always has been a cold-hearted bastard -at least the asylum wasn’t personal.

Oh look, Klaus’ remembered his seizures usually end up on the floor.

“Well.” Reginald interjects coldly, sharply stacking his notebooks and standing. “Thank you for coming. I’ve seen about enough.” And then with an adjustment of his monocle and straightening of the pineapple strewn jacket, the bastard finally leaves, stepping over Klaus, now gasping and groaning on the floor, like one might exaggeratedly step over a dog mess.

So that went well.

* * *

Vanya, she thinks it is probably fair to say, is rather confused and a lot bemused by what has just happened. First of all, the sheer panic when she went to demonstrate her powers. And yeah ok, perhaps exploding the fruit arrangement all over everybody wasn’t her finest moment (maybe? There’s a lot of moments she’s forgotten after all), and maybe she’d actually intended to just lift the fruit, like she had with the water when she saved Harlan. But that reaction? The rush to try and stop her? That had hurt. Even if she had blown up the moon before (which didn’t feel like a lie, but was still hard to get her head around).

And their father. What. An. Asshole.

She supposed they had tried to warn her, but still. Sure, Diego seemed awfully hung up on stopping the JFK assassination, but cutting him down until he stuttered (god, poor Diego, somehow she just knew that _that_ had cut even deeper than the words) was surely uncalled for.

But _Klaus._

One moment Five was desperately trying to rescue the situation, warning of the doomsday, the next Klaus was gasping and convulsing at the table. And it was frightening – Vanya may have seen Harlan’s episodes before, but this was something else. His arms were straight up in the air, but his hands, _oh his hands_ were snapping back and forth at the wrists so sharply she felt it in her own. His head jostled violently on top of his juddering shoulders. And the noises, he sounded like he was alternating between choking on his own tongue and snapping his teeth together.

But nobody seemed really concerned.

Diego seemed bitter and claimed he was overdosing (on what? Was her brother a drug addict? Had he done this before?!), Five didn’t seem to know what to make of it, Allison seemed non-plussed and only Luther seemed to want to help (but asking if they should do something didn’t seem to add up to actually _doing_ something). And before Vanya could uncurl her hands from their death grip on the tables edge, it was over. Klaus had tried to choke out some words (did he say Ben? Ben, the one sibling she may not remember again and would never get to meet?) and then collapsed sideways, falling to the floor, shuddering and whimpering (oh god, did that hurt?) and Reginald was making a swift exit, stepping over Klaus like trash and sweeping Five away for a ‘word in private’.

Quietly she stands and moves around Luther, who is crouched trying desperately to find the shirt buttons he scattered, hurrying to crouch next to Klaus. He’s broken out in a sweat, his creased brow glistening as he pants and groans into the carpet. Its only when she goes to take his hand she realises they are clawed into the fabric, gripping and releasing spasmodically.

“Klaus?” A whimper. “Do you want a glass of water or something?” Her spare hand brushes his curls out of his face as he gives a small nod, so she gently squeezes his hand and goes to ask for a glass of water from the bar staff. Allison is still sorting their bill when she returns, and Diego has progressed from sitting with his face in his hands to tugging on his hair, but Luther seems to have given up on the buttons and is gently helping Klaus sit up.

“Th-anks” Klaus’ voice is raspy as she presses the cool glass in his hands and urges him to drink, but the water seems to soothe it as he continues. “What a shit-show, huh sis?”

“Um, yeah, you could call it that” she trails off, but tentatively asking, “Has that happened before?”

“Uh no, not really.” Luther snorts. “Well yeah, but not infront of _Dad_ , he was really strict about table manners and silence during mealtimes” And whilst she’d also kind of been wondering that in the back of her head too, that wasn’t what she’d meant.

“Oh, well actually I meant, y’know, with Klaus? The- the seizure?” She’s looking between them as she says it, gently taking the glass away from Klaus who has slumped in Luther’s hold, eyes drooping., and was at risk of spilling what was left over his jeans.

“Oh! Oh yeah. Um Klaus has had seizures since we were kids, but… I guess you wouldn’t remember.” Luther trails off awkwardly, running a hand through his hair and looking over to Allison. She’s stood, gathered her things and is cajoling Diego out his seat but she turns towards them like she’s summoned by Luther’s attention. With a sigh she beckons Luther to stand up and tugs his over jacket closed, with a murmur to “perhaps zip that up before we leave”, before turning to Vanya and where she’s crouched with a hand on Klaus’ shoulder.

“Are you alright? I’m guessing that’s not quite the family dinner you’d expect.” A wry smile at Vanya, whilst she leans down to grasp Klaus’ other arm and try to help lift him off the floor. “I’m sure you’re beginning to realise, but we’re a bit of a fucked up family.”

“Um yeah, I’m beginning to realise.” She replies, whilst rising from her crouch and trying to steady Klaus as he tips sideways. It’s not easy when he’s so much taller, even without the heeled boots. “Hey, are you ok?” She whispers to him, wincing a little as his head lolls in her direction, and he breathes right in her face.

“Oh, moi? Jus’….. just peachy little sis’….” He’s slurring a bit, which concerns Vanya but doesn’t seem to surprise Allison, or Luther who is sliding an arm under Klaus’ shoulder and taking his weight off Vanya, with a muttered “Ok, let’s go, we’ve wasted enough time here.”


	2. Check please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where there are feelings like knives in guts and squished rubber ducks, and a Luther acting like a better big brother.

“Why don’t you band together and do something about it?”

Oh, if only it was that simple. Ben had wanted nothing more since Five had found them, and brought them all back together in the sixties. To talk to each other, to say something to his family and _it be heard_ without Klaus playing the ghost telephone. _Even with_ Klaus playing the ghost telephone. Why couldn’t he do that for him? It had hurt, all those years with Klaus and _only_ Klaus for company, when his brothers and sisters wouldn’t believe Klaus even when Klaus had told them he was there.

But that was a familiar hurt.

That wasn’t his fault (he was dead, and that usually means gone), and really it wasn’t Klaus’ either, because he had tried to tell them, tried several times in fact. Even during the apocalypse (well, the first one) he had never hidden his interactions with Ben from them, even if he stopped outright saying it was Ben or that he was there. So, it ached, it ached something fierce, but it wasn’t really anybody’s _fault_ per se.

But when Klaus told them he hadn’t made it, that ghosts couldn’t time travel even though Ben was sat _right there_ staring at the family he had spent the last three years thinking were lost to him even in death?

It probably would have hurt less if Klaus had stuck a knife in his gut.

“All right. Screw it.”

Ben wasn’t going to be side-lined this time, they needed him. He wasn’t going to let Klaus shut him out of his own family again. Somebody needed to speak up against Reginald (what happened to having each other’s backs? Fucking cowards, letting him speak to Diego like that, even if Diego is weirdly obsessed with saving JFK) and if they won’t, he will!

With a clench of his fists he throws himself forward, sprinting from his seat and into Klaus. God, he hopes whatever happened that morning at the mansion happens again and he doesn’t end up stood in the middle of the remains of the fruit arrangement.

It does.

Sort of.

At first it is like running into a padded wall, an abrupt but cushioned impact, and for a split-second Ben is struck-dumb at his success. Then the pain hits, and even if he hadn’t been without pain receptors now for nearly as long as he’d been alive, he doesn’t think he’d have the words to describe how it feels for his spine to lock and body turn traitor. His body ( _Klaus’_ body) is jerking, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth and all out of control. There is a sharp pain…. somewhere…. like its on the edge of his body, high up and far away and it takes Ben a second to realise that its from his hands snapping back and forth in the air and that pain belongs to his wrists. He can’t see, there’s a blurry impression of flashing lights amongst the darkness and all he can hear is gasping, choking noises and clacking teeth.

This isn’t like the first time. That had felt like being in a car with no seatbelt on the worst road ever, or like a tennis ball in a dryer, bouncing around the spinning drum. This is hard, and messy, and painful, and _personal_ , and any second Ben expects to be thrown from Klaus’ body like he had in the morning. But he holds on, trying to take command of this quaking body, tries to force it to settle, feels a stillness in the limbs and loosening of the throat and _just_ manages to choke out a-

“I’m…… BEN!”

Before a final shock jolts him, his purchase on Klaus’ body slipping and he is being catapulted out and to the floor, except the darkness rises up to catch him……

* * *

“Well, that went as well as any Hargreeves family function.”

They were back in the elevator again, sans Five who was whisked away to talk to their Father. Klaus sat propped up against the back wall, he hadn’t moved from where Luther had lowered him after helping him stumble out of the bar. Luther has stayed next to him, whilst Diego is braced against the doorframe, tense and eager to escape to go lick his wounds in private. Allison and Vanya are left to stand together at the side, avoiding Klaus’ long legs sprawled across the floor. It leaves Allison wondering how someone so slender can take up so much space, but Klaus always was larger than life. Over the top. Too much. An overdose.

But god she had missed him.

She had missed them all, so, so much. That moment she saw Klaus, floating on a pink lilo, in the pool of a mansion (was it his?), in a pair of tiny shorts (of course), in 1963…. Words weren’t enough. It was everything she hadn’t dared to rumour, not even in her mind, too scared to find out if _this_ was where her power ended, when it couldn’t return her missing family to her side. But if she had found Four, maybe Four could find Five, and One had already found Two, and Two would soon find them, and then they’d all find Seven - together. Maybe _this_ was going to be her reward for not giving in to temptation, to living her life the right way, the normal way – just being a woman, without all the rumours to ease her way, in a world where the colour of her skin locked so many doors before she could even check if they were open, or where she wanted to go.

Ughhh....I feel so violated!” Klaus groans weakly. His hand is inside his loosened shirt (at least Luther remembered what to do, but then again, he’d always been surprisingly caring about Klaus’ seizures despite their Fathers dismissive attitude), rubbing sloppy circles across his chest. His head is rolling gently side to side, and he doesn’t quite seem aware of what his own hand in doing.

“I need an herbal bath.” His voice is thin, and whiny, like when they were kids and he’d drowsily beg for ‘five more minutes Allison, it’s the _weekend_...’, preferring to use the time they’d normally be running laps of the courtyard to sleep in, rather than play games. Guiltily she remembers how much the seizures sapped from him when they were teenagers, how he’d go from bouncing round a room to being drained and confused just from a minute of shaking, how afterwards he’d be excused from physical training for the day and allowed to nap in the infirmary under Grace’s care. Maybe there’s a blanket in the trunk of Luther’s car, they could lay him out to nap on the backseat as they drive home?

“You had no right to possess me!”

She turns to squint at him, but he’s glaring drowsily at the space by Diego’s arm. OK, that one was weird. Klaus does come out with strange things, but usually after a fit he’d be moaning, or wishing for his bed, or a bath (or a joint as they got older, but she’s fairly certain that’s _not_ the medically recommended aftercare). To refer to his seizures as a possession? That’s new. But then again, maybe not, it’s been three years for him after all. Maybe that’s how he’s explained them away to his cult – a possession by evil spirits? The Devil? If he could pretend it was a spiritual problem, then his believers would likely treat him kinder than if he’d admitted to having epilepsy.

After all it wasn’t just blacks that the sixties didn’t like.

* * *

“You had no right to possess me!”

He hurts all over, his legs and arms feel like noodles and somebody filled his head with water. His thoughts are definitely sloshing around like a squeaky duck in a bathtub, and he’s tired, too tired to be as angry as he feels he should be. It’s like there’s a flame in there somewhere, ready to start a fire and he’s pissed about it, how dare Ben, but at the same time he can feel his thoughts sloshing, his anger washing away, and a little flame might be enough to light a joint but it’s no match for the bathwater, you can’t smoke a wet joint.....

Christ his head hurts. He just wants to lay down on something soft, drift away and come back when the lights aren’t so bright, and the needles have stopped stabbing him all over, and Ben isn’t looming next to him, all smug yet disappointed, with his passively clasped hands (again. Is he angry too this time? Klaus hopes not). Is he disappointed because Klaus had a seizure? At least he assumes that is what happened. He’s never been angry about that before. But then again, he’s never been ‘borrowing’ Klaus before when he’s had one.

_Did_ he borrow Klaus? He can’t remember. He doesn’t remember sharing, doesn’t remember offering (offering what again...?). No, no he must of. Ben doesn’t _steal_ , that’s Klaus’ trick.

Ben looks after him when he’s all confused like this. He knows this, he _trusts_ Ben (he _does_ , why does that spark fear, its Ben, its _Ben_ ). It doesn’t matter _how_ angry Ben is, doesn’t matter what Klaus has done, or taken, or said (or not said). When Klaus wakes up on the floor, hurting and confused and with a head full of cotton (or knives, or water, god he wants a _bath_ ) Ben is softer, he’s calm and he talks to Klaus until he can lift himself up and stumble away, and he’s not angry again until he knows Klaus can remember _why_ he’s angry _._

And Klaus can’t. Remember that is. He thinks. Maybe he’ll remember when it all stops hurting?

There’s a hand on his shoulder. He manages to make his eyes follow up the arm and sees its Luther. He thinks Luther is asking him something but its far away and his head is full, and his ears are underwater. He feels like a bath ducky that’s been squeezed flat, and he just wants to be left alone, he thinks with a whimper, just leave him alone, please.

The hand moves, an arm sneaking behind his shoulders, another scooping up his limp legs and then he’s going up, up, up, being held against something warm, and his stomach rolls - he’s going to be _sick -_ and the bathwater in his head is sloshing, nearly going over the sides, so he gives in, closes his eyes and sinks into the waves...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the reaction to the first chapter <3 It was so encouraging, I was so nervous to post my first fic. It's definitely spurred me on to get the second chapter written faster for you all. I'll be trying to get a chapter or so ahead of the posting after this one, so it may be a bit longer than two days before I post chapter three.
> 
> I hope Klaus' section struck the balance between making enough sense to read, but being confused and fuzzy enough to convey where I think his headspace might be after that experience. Please let me know what you think about the characterisations - I'm happy to take on board constructive advice and feedback to improve my writing :)


	3. Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luther and Diego have a heart-to-heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Chapter 3, I hope you like it! I haven't written chapter four yet, but I've got a thousand or so words down for some later chapters so decided to post this one now. I think this story may end up around six chapters long but I'm not sure yet, it depends how many little ideas I get and where the natural breaks fall I think. 
> 
> On that note I am struggling with rounding off scenes/ending chapters - does anybody have any advice to share? Anything I write seems abrupt to me, but I can't pinpoint why it feels that way exactly.
> 
> If you have any questions / feedback / advice etc please do comment with them, I read and appreciate them all. Also any tagging suggestions - I tend to read summaries rather than tags when browsing so if there are any tags you think apply to this story that I've missed off please let me know.

“I’m sorry.”

Luther says lowly, keeping his eyes firmly on the road, and definitely _not_ looking across at Diego in the passenger seat. The only other noise in the car is the engine, and the tyres on the road. Klaus is laid across the backseat asleep, drooling slightly on to a folded blanket Allison had found in the trunk of her car, and gently tucked under his head before they all parted ways.

“About back there I mean. I should have had your back.” He swallows awkwardly. “I just... froze. It’s like, we were all there, and _he_ was there, with his notebook and all, and suddenly I was ten years old at the dinner table again and-”

“It’s fine.” Diego cuts in.

“It’s not! I should–“

“Its. Fine.” Diego growls, before rubbing his eyes with a sigh. “I get it man. You don’t have to apologise. Shits done anyway.” They go quiet again, the silence only broken when Luther indicates to turn off the highway. And then quietly -

“Besides, it’s not like I had any of your backs in there either.”

Diego’s staring out the side window, head leant against the glass, absent-mindedly twirling a knife in his hands. It’s an anxious habit Luther hasn’t seen him do since they were kids – since before Dad had caned ‘the unseemly habit’ out of him, he thinks guiltily – but it’s not the first time Luther has seen him do it since they were reunited this week.

“What do you mean?” He ventures, careful to keep his voice low when Klaus shifts on the backseat.

“Klaus... Vanya. Mainly Klaus.” A deep sigh. “I thought the worst of him, y’know? I was just _so angry_ and then he s-seized, and I thought he was doing it for the attention, blamed the drugs.” The knife stops twirling, fist tightening over the handles until his knuckles go white. “And it shouldn’t matter _why._ I didn’t even check he was ok, and now he’s conked out on the backseat.”

“He’ll be alright, you know he always gets tired after –“

“Of course, I know! That just makes it worse.” Diego snaps with a hiss, then takes a deep breath, “Who do you think got called if he was found seizing in the street and somebody got him an ambulance? Or when he wound up down at the station? Who dragged him down to rehab time after time?” Diego turns to face him, knife held up in front of him as if to reinforce his point. “I tried man, I tried to get him off all that shit so maybe he could get back on his _real_ meds, but it just didn’t stick. He didn’t _want_ to be sober, because the drugs got rid of the ghosts he was so afraid of, and to him that was worth it. Worth the risk of having a seizure alone in an alleyway or as he crossed a street.”

Luther swallows. He hadn’t known actually. “Do you think he’s back on his meds now, since he’s been sober?”

“I doubt it.” Diego slumps back against the seat, knife twirling again. “He probably doesn’t remember which drug it was it’s been that long, and it’s not like he can nip home and check his prescription. Christ they might not even make it yet in the sixties, and you remember how many Dad tried him on until they found one that worked.”

“Allison tried as well once.” Luther adds quietly, glancing in the mirror to check Klaus is still asleep.

“She _what?_ ”

“When we were teenagers. It was before Ben, I think it was that mission, the one upstate.” Luther will never forget rounding that corner and finding Allison crying as she knelt next to Klaus, trying to cushion his head off the floor as his body jerked and bucked.

“It was one of the bad ones, where he doesn’t really wake up properly afterwards for a while. He’d gotten separated and went down -” Luther doesn’t know why he’s telling Diego this; they _all_ remember the lashing they’d got about not keeping track of their teammates. “- and Allison found him first. She told me later that she’d tried to rumour him to stop, to never have another seizure ever again… but it just didn’t take.”

That mission had actually been the start of putting Klaus as the lookout. If he was a lookout he was away from the action, and Luther could pick a safe spot for him - somewhere where the enemy shouldn’t reach him, but Luther could always find him. And if that spot often required crouching or being low to the ground so he could see out, but nobody could see him? Well it was just a happy coincidence that he was close to the floor should a seizure ever happen on a mission again.

“I thought for ages it was because of the drugs.” Diego admits lowly as they turn up a driveway. “It just, it seemed so obvious that that was the reason back then. Klaus starts drugs, he starts zoning out a bit, his weird habits get even weirder, then he finds the heavier stuff and one day he starts shaking like an earthquake at the breakfast table.” He takes a deep breath.

“Then I got out, went to the police academy. One of the guys that worked there, he just went down like a sack of bricks during the middle of lunch one day. I was all ready to read him the riot act when he woke up enough, but then he thanks me for catching him, says he has epilepsy and forgot his meds that morning. And I went away, looked it up and realised that maybe it wasn’t _K-Klaus’ fault_ , he hadn’t done this to himself by taking drugs, it was just… a condition.”

Luther doesn’t know what to say, when he glances across Diego’s eyes are wet and he’s trying to pull himself back together, so he just pulls the car in to park in front of the house in silence. He had never really thought about _why_ Klaus had seizures; it was just… Klaus. Klaus is number Four. Klaus sees the dead (and is frightened of them). Klaus likes to steal Allison’s clothes, and smoke weed, and occasionally his body likes to jerk uncontrollably on the floor and take an unscheduled nap afterwards.

He is still scrambling for something to say when the front door to the mansion is flung open, and bright light spills out onto the car. A figure in light blue hurries over, and Luther is half out the car and opening his mouth to check they have the right address when their eyes fall on Klaus, who started to stir with the light.

“Oh! The Prophet has returned! Come in come in! Are you joining us? Let us get you some tea….”


	4. Ground rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the night before for Klaus and Ben

Klaus wakes slowly.

His body feels heavy, and despite the comfort of the bed he feels badly rested. It takes several blinks to convince his eyes to _stay_ open, and a few more to bring the room into focus. He lets out a small sigh of confusion. With a groan he rolls his head to the side, catching glimpse of what looks like a cold cup of tea on the side table, and his boots lined up neatly as a pair against the wall. His room? How did he get here? Definitely not by himself, he never lines his boots up like that.

He wiggles his bare toes with a frown – someone must have helped him here and taken his shoes and boots off before depositing him on the bed. He’s still wearing his favourite shirt (he’s not sure it’s his favourite now… it doesn’t feel _lucky_ or _good_ anymore, he thinks yesterday might have been a bad day) and the waistband of his jeans is sitting uncomfortably tight against his bladder. So, somebody helped him to bed and then left him in it alone with minimal undressing.

Speaking of his bladder, that issue is not going away now he is aware of it. He wiggles to the edge of the bed, and propping an arm against the headboard, levers himself to his feet. As he shuffles to the bathroom he can feel some of the fuzz in his brain clearing. This morning dance is familiar, the tiredness, the aching muscles – he must have had a seizure again.

When he returns to the bedroom, he feels more awake, better for having splashed some water over his face. His stomach gurgles loudly, protesting at the lateness of any form of breakfast. Lacking the energy to find his socks, he leans against the wall as he leans down to pull his boots back on, before opening the door and weaving his way down the corridor. Spotting his reflection in a mirror he pouts at the state of his hair and runs his fingers through it to smooth out the worst of the tangles, blowing a raspberry at a particularly stubborn knot before continuing on to the kitchen.

Cracking his jaw on yawn, he checks the kettle sets it to heat on the stove with a clang. He putters across to rummage around the cupboards for bread, fumbles putting it in the toaster and curses softly when his grip falters and he drops the knife with a clatter. He is just closing the drawer after finding a new one when Ben’s voice cuts across the kitchen.

“Not picking up that mess either then?” God, what a judgemental asshole.

“Charming.” Oops. Said that out loud then. Never mind, Ben has heard worse before (he’s called him worse too, let’s be honest). He squints at the toast, debating if it’s worth the effort of finding some peanut butter. After ultimately deciding it’s not, her cuts it in half, shoves a piece in his mouth and wanders to sit down at the table with the rest.

“So, that was quite the return last night, _prophet._ ” Ben throws out teasingly. “Diego had to fend off your enthusiastic believers trying to ply him and Luther with _tea,_ whilst Luther carried your ass back to your room,” Klaus hums round his toast, “-draped across his arms like a fainting _princess_.” And suddenly the dry toast seems like a bad idea as crumbs get stuck in his throat.

“He _what?!_ ” He splutters indignantly “and I _slept through it?!_ ” He pouts with a huff. How unfair! The _one time_ he gets carried in the gentle and tender way he deserves, and he’s not even awake to appreciate it!

“Uh-huh” Ben drawls over the whistling of the kettle. Folding the last bit of his toast in half, Klaus shoves it in his mouth and lurches over to the stop to screeching, digging around for a mint teabag and dropping it in the nearest mug. “It was all _very_ heart-warming.”

“Yeah, well I feel like shit.” Klaus mutters, stirring the tea with his toast knife. He hesitates, “I did… have a seizure, right?”

“Uh...yeah, yeah I think so.” Klaus turns with a frown. Had Ben sounded… shifty? “I mean, it looked like it? Your arms were flailing about in the air, but you didn’t, uh, do the whole, um, body jerking on the floor thing you used to do.” Klaus squints at Ben as he fishes out the teabag.

Something is niggling at the back of his mind. Something about this doesn’t feel right, and Ben is acting _weird._ Weirder than normal. He’s got his arms crossed (not unusual), scuffing the toe of his boot (that _is_ unusual), and not quite looking Klaus in the eye (definitely weird). Now he’s a ghost Ben loves eye contact - when he’s not sulking that is. It’s _weird as fuck_ and makes Klaus as uncomfortable as hell at times, but Ben seeks it out the way Klaus sought out drugs. The other ghosts always love attention too, so Klaus has chalked it up as some ghost thing and tries not to freak out about it too much whenever he thinks about it too closely.

“Yeah” He murmurs thoughtfully. “I was at the dinner table, right? God. I bet dad was _soooo_ pissed.” He taps his fingers against the edge of the mug, leaning against the counter and frowning as he tried to think back. “Did I fall out of my chair? Might be why my back is being a complete _bitch_ this…. morning...” he trails off. “Wait a minute, were you on the floor with me?” He sees Bens eyes widen out of the corner of his eye. “Why were you…. Wait you possessed me?! Again?!”

“That’s a strong word-” Ben starts

“You had no right! What-”

“- I’d like to call it borrowing.”

“-do you think you’re doing?! And NO, that’s not _borrowing_ Ben,” The hand not gripping his tea comes up to rub his temples “- that is called _stealing._ ”

“Oh, come on! You wouldn’t let me speak!” Ben shoots back. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know, perhaps _not_ possess your brother without asking and _trigger a fucking seizure?!!_ ” Klaus snaps, turning to glare at him. Ben’s just about to reply when they hear the sound of footsteps approaching down the hallway.

“We’ll continue this elsewhere.” Klaus hisses, pushing away from the counter and refusing to look at his brother as he steps around him and leaves the kitchen.

* * *

“No, it’s not fucking all right Ben! Putting aside the whole consent issue,” Klaus swallows, because he does not want to deal with that, does _not_ want to think about his brother taking without asking, or worse, taking without caring about the answer. “I had a seizure. Ben, I haven’t had a full body seizure since we ended up in the sixties!”

“Yeah since you got sober, I know, we’ve talked about this before-”

“But then you possess me, and I just _suddenly_ get one? Ben that can’t be a coincidence!”

“Well you weren’t sober anymore were you? You’d been drinking with Allison, and at the bar you were drinking a cocktail-” Ben accuses.

“Oh so now it’s _my_ fault? Christ, it’s just like being kids again. _Klaus you know you shouldn’t drink, you know it will make your shakes worse. Klaus, are you_ sure _you didn’t do this to yourself with the drugs?_ ” He spits out, leaning back against the cushion and scrubbing his hands over his eyes. He is not going to cry from frustration. He’s _not!_ “Have you considered the fact that I haven’t been possessed since we got here either? Bit of a clue when the second you get in here I’m all a-shaking!!”

“Well you know the drugs don’t help with-” Ben starts “-Wait. Since we got here? Have you been possessed before?!”

“I don’t know! I don’t really remember what _you_ did in here Benny, but now I’m definitely thinking twice about some sleepwalking I did as a kid!” He huffs out shakily. God, he doesn’t even want to consider. One time he had been found by Pogo seizing at the bottom of the stairs in the middle of the night. At the time they had decided he was lucky to have started seizing at the bottom and not halfway up, but Klaus had never remembered getting out of bed, or why he’d been roaming the house at midnight. The sleepwalking hadn’t happened again after that (that he knows of) – not once he’d found his way into dear old Dad’s liquor cabinet at least.

He takes a shaky breath. “So, I hate to disappoint you, Benny boy, but you are not getting in this body again. No way.” He sees Ben jolt on his cushion, frowning as his head lifts from where he’d propped it on his hand.

“But-”

“No buts! If I can’t suffer hangovers from the fun stuff anymore, I am _not_ suffering them because you wanted to take this for a ride and shake the stuffing out me.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to fall asleep eventually.” Klaus feels a shiver of fear go down his spine at that. Had Ben been creeping on him when he slept, thinking about a round two? God he really doesn’t need another issue about sleeping.

“What part of it fucking hurts, and I don’t want to do it did you not get Ben?” He picks up his cooling tea again, wanting the comfort of something real to hold, and something to look at that wasn’t Ben’s intense staring.

“Yeah, ok it hurt, and I’m sorry about that, I didn’t realise how bad they were before.” Ben pauses, but then adds hopefully “But we don’t know I caused it! It could have been the alcohol.”

“Jesus Christ Ben!”

“No, no look, we should try again, it could have just been a coincidence! You did drink a lot with Allison, you probably don’t have the tolerance you used too-” Ben wheedles. He’s staring imploringly, doing that thing where he makes his eyes all wide and face all open as if to say, ‘look at me, how can this be a threat?’.

“Ben!” Klaus can’t believe he’s doing this. He shoves the stirrings of fear down, _deep_ down. Not helpful. It’s Ben, it’s his brother. He will nag, and beg, and needle but he wouldn’t _really_ steal Klaus’ control like that. He’s not like the other ghosts, he’s _not_ , he tells himself firmly.

“Please?”

“No! Listen, I’m not gonna let you win.” He’s got practice at ignoring Ben. It’s a little harder now Ben can self-actualise, and it’s now pretty much automatic to feed enough power to keep him corporeal to Klaus, but he _can_ ignore him. Between one breath and the next Ben is across the room and perched right in front of him.

“Hey! Ben! Jesus Christ!” He hisses, jerking away and realising he has spilt his cooling tea over his lap. When did Ben learn to fucking teleport? “Will you please..? Just, look, I’m going through a lot right now.” And you aren’t helping he adds silently.

“You’re always going through a lot!” Ben complains. Which, fair, but still.

“Aside from all this, the love of my life is gonna die, and I can’t stop it. I’ve tried every trick in the time-travellers playbook. I told him I loved him… I told him his future…” And he feels sick thinking about what he has subjected Dave too. Its one thing to fail to save him, but to send him off with his death date in his hand?

“And the only thing you succeeded in doing was freaking him out.” Thanks Ben. So fucking helpful.

“Oh, God, I hate this. Not being able to do anything.”

“Klaus, the way you feel right now, is the way I feel every day. All I do is watch you make the same mistakes over, and over, and over, and over again. Welcome to powerlessness.”

“Powerlessness? Yeah I know her.” he laughs wildly, “That’s the bitch that comes along, hits me up like a vending machine that won’t drop the candy, and then leaves me on the floor like a sack of-”

“Klaus!” Ben cuts over him.

“-What?!” Klaus snaps, slapping his hand against the cushion.

“Please, let me try again.” Ben’s staring again. That damn eye contact. “Just for a few minutes!” he whines.

“Why? What is so damn important?” More important than _me,_ he doesn’t add. Ben used to be so concerned about his seizures, back when they bounced from strangers’ beds to rehab to the streets. What had changed?

“Jill! I..” Ben sighs, looks away (thank god – a break from the eye contact). “I want to talk to her.”

Klaus pauses, and looks at him for a minute, really looks. Sometimes he finds it hard to remember Ben died so young, when something has led to him growing older even in death. Ben had died without ever having had a crush (at least, not on somebody they had actually ever met), or a first date or a first kiss. And that is easy to forget. Poor bastard.

“All right, fine.” He sighs, but almost immediately has to grab his leather jacket to prevent him from jumping straight on in. Ben is an asshole, but he deserves this, he reminds himself. Deserves a chance to at least talk to the girl. But…

“We need to talk about ground rules!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is chapter four! I hope you enjoy this one. Apologies for the rehashing of the scene from the episode, but it felt too important to miss out with the context of the story. That said I hope that the way I reframed the conversation worked to keep it relevant and interesting!
> 
> Shout out to "house of spirits and martyrs" by hujwernoo which inspired the bit about Klaus second guessing his sleepwalking.


	5. It's tough to get away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben gets to drive all that 'hot business'

**Excerpt from Sir Reginald Hargreeves’ notes, June 10 th, 1996**

_“It appears that Number Four has begun to suffer from some form of absence seizures. Fortunately, these appear to be short enough to be passed off as poor concentration or mental slowness to the other children. The episodes are significant enough that they may prove problematic should an episode occur during close combat situations, if they have not resolved by the time the academy begins to undertake missions. These absences do not appear to have an affect Number Four’s ability to maintain a connection to the dead, but any information relayed to him during such episodes is lost, as Number Four claims no memory of them occurring. As best as I can determine, this is a truthful claim.”_

* * *

“We need to talk about ground rules!”

“Yeah, fine.” Ben huffs, trying to extricate himself from Klaus’ grip on his jacket. Yeah sure, ground rules. What do they need rules for? He just wants to talk to Jill for god’s sake. “Can you let me up now?”

“Do you promise not to just jump right on in here?”

“Christ. Yes, I promise!” He rolls his eyes. He knows what Klaus is like with promises, he won’t give in until he gets one. Klaus lets go instantly, so Ben leans back, smoothing his jacket back into place. He squints at Klaus, who has closed his eyes and is taking deep breaths and muttering ‘okay’ to himself. He wonders if he is going to suffer another absence, like he did earlier on. At least he’s not going to spill any more tea on himself if he does, having put the mostly empty cup to the side.

“So, ground rules?” He prompts, time to get this back on track.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, ground rules.” Klaus comes back to himself with a small shake of his head, and clambers to his feet. “So, you can go…. go find Jill and have a quick conversation.” Ben nods excitedly.

“Yeah, thank you-”

“But if I have a seizure, you gotta like, get out. Straight away. And we are _not_ doing it again.” Klaus continues, waving a hand in air as he heads towards the door. “Speaking of, try to keep me near softer landings, don’t hang around on the stairs too long.” Ben nods. “And you can’t possess me all day! You go straight to find Jill, you have your...” Klaus waves vaguely, “…conversation – quickly mind! – and then you get out again. No dilly-dallying Ben!”

“I won’t. I just want to talk to her. Just for a few minutes.” Ben promises as he follows eagerly down the hall. It all seems common-sense so far, he doesn’t get why Klaus even has to ask.

“And no cutting of the hair! I love my look right now.” Klaus says, running his hands though his hair. Honestly, Ben wonders what goes through his mind sometimes. Why on earth would he cut Klaus’ hair? The second rule just makes him shudder in disgust. Just, why Klaus? Why would you even think about that? Ben is most decidedly _not_ interested in investigating ‘down there’ on Klaus.

“-maybe I won’t mind, you know, but just don’t look, because I’m shy.” Klaus continues. Klaus, shy? Now he knows he’s fucking with him.

“And finally,” Klaus says as they approach the glass doors, “I’m dairy-free. _Trust me_ on that.” And eww, okay. Ben is definitely going to take his word on that. The bathroom is one of the few places Ben hasn’t followed Klaus over their many years together – they had to draw a line somewhere after all – and is an experience he doesn't need to relive, so that’s actually a useful heads-up.

“Thank you.” Ben says. And he means it, this is going to be incredible. He’s going to get _seen_ again, even if its Klaus people think they are seeing.

“Whatever, just…” Klaus sighs, opening the glass doors with a stomp. “Just make it quick.” With a deep breath, Ben leans forward, and runs (so sue him, that’d had worked twice before, don’t fix what isn’t broken…) towards Klaus, who is leaning back, body tense and eyes scrunched shut.

He hits that wall again. He’s disorientated, the room spinning as suddenly he’s facing the other direction. It’s different this time, less like he’s being thrown around, more like he is falling into place. For all Klaus’ reluctance he _is_ allowing this to happen this time, and with a shiver Ben settles (he ignores the otherworldly churning and grumbling coming from his stomach. Nope. Not dealing with that today).

And then, just like that, he’s in control.

He steps outside, grasping the door lightly, his face alight with wonder. A hand settles briefly on his stomach, but so strong is the euphoria it takes barely a thought to clamp down on the movement in his gut, to lock the stirring horror away, and then its already forgotten, hands lifting up to touch his face. He can _feel_ the light stubble starting on Klaus’ face from where he hadn’t shaved that morning.

Each touch is like electricity down his spine, but in a good way. Its so strong, so unexpected. He thought he knew what feeling felt like – he had been interacting with cars and slapping Klaus on the regular since landing in the sixties – but suddenly he realised he hadn’t been feeling anything, Not like this, not in a way that’s _real_ – he’d been acknowledging that solid things existed but all the sensation had been stripped away.

And he can feel _everything_. So strongly. He feels his body take an interest, slides his hands under his shirt… lifts away the waistband of his jeans…and nope. Nope that isn’t his junk. He’s not interested, no matter how strongly Klaus’ body is reacting to this experience.

“Okay, just focus.” He tells himself firmly (if he’d been paying closer attention, he might have noticed the faint outrage from Klaus at the back of his mind, the shout of ‘Christ Ben, you agreed no touchy-touchy or looky-looky down there! Focus!’). “Stay focused.”

And with a giddy giggle, he wanders off towards the grounds.

* * *

**Continuation of excerpt dated June 10 th, 1996**

_“This morning Number Four suffered a most peculiar episode, lasting several minutes, where his behaviour and reasoning reverted to something more suited to a child several years his junior. His capacity for conversation was similarly affected. Following the episode Number Four had little recollection of what he had done. (Priority: Update Grace’s protocols to monitor for future occurrences of similar such episodes)”_

* * *

“Hello?”

Ben comes back to himself with a start. He’s face down in the dirt, arms to the side like he just fell forwards. Jill is stood looking down at him. She’s _looking at him!_

“Oh,” he sits up, unable to take his eyes off her. “Hello Jill.” He swallows.

“Cool if I join you?”

“No. I mean... yeah of course.” Smooth. So smooth. But he can’t bring himself to care as she sits next to him, and then they are lying in the dirt, giggling together. His hands run across the dirt and he can feel the warmth, the damp particles sticking to his fingers, can smell the earth (is Jill wearing perfume?). He turns his head to the side, Jill is laughing freely, sweeping her arms and legs to make a dirt angel and Ben can’t help but join in – there’s no thought, no consideration to the dirt getting in ~~his~~ Klaus’s hair – just follows the impulse to do something that brings so much joy.

He can’t quite remember how he ended up in the dirt, but that’s okay.

There’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

* * *

“You... You’re incredible too.” Ben breathes. He still can’t believe he’s here, Jill is talking to him, she _likes_ him, even if he’s dorkier than Klaus. She’s let him smell her hair – she smells sweet, even better than the fresh strawberries they had been sharing. He wants to live in this moment forever, feeling the warmth of the sun, smelling Jill's sweet perfume and basking in her attention.

“Wanna do it?” Jill pulls away, looking at him hopefully.

“Do what?” There are so many things Ben would like to do with her. He wants to ask her about her favourite book. He’d like to walk in the garden and smell all the flowers, maybe pick some to weave into her hair. Maybe he could hold her hand and-

“Have sex.” Or...that. “The holy union of our multiple spirits.”

“Sure, but uh-” He splutters.

“But what?”

“Uh, there’s something you need to know-” A sharp sting across his left cheek. He pulls the wayward left hand down with his right, hissing in the back of his mind against the faint ‘No, not happening Ben!’.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Ben twitches. “Never been better.” And he thinks it's true, even if he’s currently packing Klaus away tighter than the horror.

“Good!” And suddenly he has a lapful of Jill. Which is wonderful, _but where is he meant to put his hands oh God-_

“Jill you don’t,” He gasps, overwhelmed to have her so close. “...you don’t know the real me.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah” he whispers.

“I know everything about you. I have pored myself over your teachings, I have sung your Vedas, I have committed every part of your body to my memory.” But that’s not me, he wants to cry out. I don’t preach wisdom to the masses, I don’t want to you sing the Vedas. I want to share a book, have you sing because you are happy...

“But Jill, that’s not me.” He doesn’t want to disappoint her. “I’m somebody different. I’m..” He steels himself, “...a virgin.” Oh no, she is disappointed, she’s leaning back, leaning _away_.

“What about last week?”

“Huh?” What about last week?

“You, me and Keechie? In the sex swing.” No, no no no... “We practiced the suspended extended, four-part unification.”

“Klaus, you’re so filthy!” He hopes he hears that. Because he is. Has he slept with the entire cult?!

“Yes, you are Daddy.” Oh. Oh, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands again, because the way she’s running hers through his hair is _amazing_ and she’s kissing his jaw, and _should he be doing that back?_ He feels all hot, he can feel every bit of skin where they touch and-

“Hey Daddy.” He feels Jill jump away. What the- “You got a sec?” -where the fuck did Diego come from. Oh my god did he just call him- No. Nope. Ben’s just going to pretend Diego didn’t. Nope.

“Diego!” What is he _doing_ here?

“Come on, we gotta go.” Diego’s not even looking at him. God this is mortifying.

“Yeah.” He scrambles from underneath Jill, trying to be gentle in his panic. “I’ll be right back.” He promises her.

“Okay”

“I promise.” He assures - he really wants to finish that moment. And then he’s being led away by Diego’s grip on his arm, and he can’t help but stare at him. He didn’t think he was going to get to talk to any of his family today – he doesn’t even know where they all are – but this is amazing. This is fate, he must have been meant to do this today...

“You need to come with me.”

“Where?” He’ll go anywhere. He barely notices the believer bowing to the ‘prophet’.

“Five found a way home.” He can’t take his eyes off Diego, drinking in this moment. In the back of his mind he’s glad for the steadying grip Diego is keeping, because without his full concentration Klaus’ body walks like a newborn lamb, all wobbly limbs and fluid knees.

“It’s so great to talk to you again, Diego.” He giggles, he’s so happy.

“You hear what I just said?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you high Klaus?”

“No, I’m not Klaus.” He stops, pulling against Diego’s grip so he stops too. “I’m Ben.” He tells him seriously.

“You are high.” Diego rolls his eyes, starting to walk off again. “Can’t believe this, you had a seizure just yesterday.” He mutters, then louder- “Look, I don’t have time for this.”

“I can prove it!” He insists, flinging a hand in front of Diego to get him to stop again. “Ask me something only Ben would know.”

“Okay.” Diego thinks for second. “When we were little, what did you reprogram Allison’s Teddy Ruxpin to say?”

Oh, that one's easy.

“Luther sniffs Dads underwear” He sings with a laugh.

“Holy shit.” Diego steps back in shock, hands raised to his face. And then suddenly his arms are tight around Ben, pressing him close, and Ben sinks into the warmth of his shoulder, wrapping his arms around Diego in return.

He wants to never let go again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 200+ Kudos!! Thank you so much, I am so glad so many of you are enjoying Quake. I honestly posted my first chapter telling myself that if I got 30 kudos total by the time I was done I'd be really pleased. 
> 
> I hope this chapter balances the Ben we saw in S2, and the Ben the fandom thought we knew. I personally swing back and forth on the whole possession and Klaus and Ben relationship in s2. I think for me its not that I can't imagine the characters doing what they did, it's that it wasn't explored enough, and I've had to fill in the gaps a lot for myself about the reasons. Anyway, I'd love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> Hopefully this all feels like something that could sit within canon, as that was my goal when I started writing this, to make it feel like it could almost be something in the show that we just haven't been told yet. For those who read the prompt spoilers, I'm hoping to start building up to main points of the prompts now, hopefully I've been dropping enough hints and context along the way. For those who haven't read the prompt spoilers, I'd be interested to know what you think you've picked up and where this might be going - it'd be great feedback to know if I'm leading it where I mean too!


	6. Gonna bring the flavour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five gets meaner, and what did Ben want that ten minutes for anyway?

“I don’t get it. Klaus said you didn’t make it to Dallas.”

“Well, Klaus says a lot of things, but guess what?” Ben says, drinking in his brother’s face, relishing in the fact he’s _looking him straight in the eye._ He misses the hug but the feeling of Diego’s hands gripping the sides of his face is nearly as good. “I can possess him now, and it’s freakin’ awesome.”

“Okay, you can tell me all about it on the way back to 2019. Okay?” Diego says, starting to stride off towards the house again, Ben stumbling after him. What about Destiny’s Children? They can’t just leave them, even if they don’t realise Ben also kind of co-founded the cult and only know Klaus’ is there….

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no, okay? You stay in this body. We need someone responsible behind the wheel, okay?” Okay. Okay he can do that. Whatever this way back is, it seems urgent - trying to un-possess Klaus, explain what’s happening and then persuade him to go just sounds like a headache they don’t have time for.

“All right Diego. Will you wait? I just need, like ten minutes.” He asks, and he can see the flicker on Diego’s face, “Ten minutes!” He promises.

“Actually,” Diego glances at his watch, “-there’s something I need to do first. Meet me in the alley behind Elliott’s in 30 minutes, okay?” He points his finger at Ben’s chest. “Do not be late.”

“I won’t. I won’t!” He promises. He wouldn’t dream of being late.

“Good to see you, brother.” Oh, if only he knew. It feels so good to be _seen_ after all these years _._

“You too” Ben whispers. Then grunts as he feels Klaus’s body jerk to the side completely involuntarily and so suddenly that he is nearly knocked loose. “Oh no.”

He begins to run up the stairs, bare fleet slapping against the stone, hoping to god Klaus’ body decides to settle down and stop threatening to seize. It is hard enough to coordinate his limbs to begin with, his muscles seemingly turning fluid whenever he takes him mind off them.

His body gives another jerk - luckily in his neck not his legs - and he feels the presence of Klaus buck in the back of his mind and almost feels himself _peel_ away, before he forces Klaus’ hand to rise up and firmly push him back in.

He skids his way down the polished hallways, arms wind milling for balance as he takes corners too quickly. Crashing into Klaus’ room he pulls on the first pair of boots he can find, and plucks a Polaroid from the mirror, gently folding the photo of Klaus on a beach with the main members of Destiny’s Children (Ben had stood unseen off to the side, next to a freshly joined Jill) and tucking it into a pocket. He scrambles around looking for a pen and something to write on, before giving up, throwing his hands in the air with a growl of frustration as he runs down the corridor towards where Jill stays.

Normally Ben wouldn’t go down here, and certainly wouldn’t enter the women’s bedrooms without permission, but he’s on a time limit and _damnit Klaus why can’t you keep a pen and pad of paper handy like a normal person?!_ Jill’s bed is easy to identify – if he couldn’t smell her perfume the book sat waiting for her on the pillow would be a dead giveaway. He lunges for the pad and pen he can see on her bedside table and scrawls out a note before he can think twice and freeze up.

_Dear Jill,_

_If I could sit and share strawberries with you in the sun forever I would. I want to talk about our favourite books and go back to San Francisco together to visit that café you enjoyed so much. I really,_ really, _wanted to finish our moment in the garden earlier._

_But that was my brother who came, who has a way back to ~~my~~ our family who ~~I~~ we’ve thought were dead for years now. We have to take it, because we won’t ever get another chance._

_I say we because, well, it’s not Klaus who you rolled with in the dirt today. I’m Ben, Klaus’ other brother. It’s a long story but basically, I’m dead but Klaus can let me possess him due to his powers as the prophet, so you were talking to me whilst I was wearing Klaus’ face? Sorry, I’m not explaining this well._

_But I wanted you to know that I’ve wanted to speak to you for months, and today was the greatest moment of my ~~life death~~ life._

_Ben_

And before he can overthink it, let his embarrassment win and tear the page in half, he folds the sheet, slides it neatly into the cover of her book and hurries from the room.

* * *

**Excerpt from Sir Reginald Hargreeves’ notes, May 16 th, 1996**

_“Number Four is displaying symptoms of ataxia. Number Four’s coordination will occasionally fail without any seeming reason such as pain or disorientation, although it appears less likely to happen when Number Four is focused. After questioning Grace, it would seem that these symptoms have been increasingly present but have only now come to my attention. Grace reports that Number Four has been 15% more likely to fumble his silverware, or drop items he is holding, and has been tripping or bumping into obstacles with an 28% greater frequency over the last two months when compared with earlier in the year.”_

* * *

Luther spots Five getting a briefcase out of the dumpster ( _why?_ ) as he runs in to the alley.

“Hey. Where is everyone?” he asks. Surely if Five is here Vanya should be with him at least.

“You’re the first.” Five snarks, palming his watch and looking down the alley.

“What?”

“Yeah.” Five replies, just as Klaus skids round the corner.

“Hey! Hey!” Klaus calls, arms flailing to the side as he runs up to them. “We made it!” He chuckles, before bending forwards, which his hands on his knees with a grunt.

“What do you mean, “we”?” Five snipes. And Luther would kind of like to know that too but he’s also wondering why Klaus is still wearing his clothes from the night before – had Diego gone back to get him and found him still asleep after last night?

Then Klaus is groaning, and grunting, his upper body twisting, his right arm seemingly trying to push his left shoulder down his arm. _Shit._ Is he having a partial seizure?

“Get out!” Klaus groans, he’s now pushing his head sideways, body tense as he spins. Luther spots Five gawking out the corner of his eye as he steps forward. This isn’t looking good. He raises his hands just in time for Klaus’ body to snap taught with a grunt and catches him as he begins to topple.

He quickly kneels on the concrete, guiding Klaus’ jerking head into his lap, trying to cradle it gently so it doesn’t bounce off as the rest of his body spasms, jerking up off the floor with cut-off gasps. Almost without thinking he glances at his watch and clocks the time, wincing as Klaus’s hands smack against the floor.

“C’mon Klaus” He murmurs reassuringly, vaguely aware of Five muttering something about having less than three minutes left. “I can’t believe – where the hell is Diego?”

“Where are the others?” Five’s stressing. Luther glances at his watch again, just under a minute since Klaus started to fully seize. He leans forward over Klaus, makes quiet shushing noises, unsure what else to do but trying to soothe the terrified look in Klaus’ eyes. God, he hates the bad ones.

“Screw them! Screw them all.” Five’s cursing as he paces. “They should be here, where the fuck _are_ they?!”

Luther has barely turned his head back to Klaus when he suddenly sits bolt upright out of Luther’s lap and is violently sick to the side. He grasps his shoulders to stop him collapsing into it, trying not heave himself. Klaus heaves, goes for round two before slumping into his hold with a moan, and Luther’s not sure he’s ever seen so much vomit in his life before.

“Fuuuck.” Klaus sobs. “My head. Fucking......Ben.” He’s pawing clumsily at his own ears, eyes shut and curling into Luther away from the light. “I had the strangest dream....” Luther just pulls him in to rest against him, making what he hopes are reassuring ‘hmmmm’s.

“Useless!!” Five shouts, hands waving in the air. “A simple task!”

“Hey, Five, mind dialling it down?” Luther turns to ask.

“W’going on?” Klaus mutters. “We going somewhere?” His words muffled from where he’s still curled into Luther’s chest.

“All we had to do _was be here!_ ” Five’s waving his fists as he paces angrily. “Didn’t have to fight a giant sea monster, no.”

Wait, was that a possibility?

“An army of mutants? _Nein!_ ” Luther frowns. Is that briefcase… clicking?

“God damnit!” Five curses, lunging forward to grab the case, launching it into the air, where it disappears above Luther’s head in a cloud of blue. “We were that close.” He slumps defeated.

Luther’s distracted from Five’s despair by Klaus moaning and trying to sit up. “Where’s Diego? M’sure I was with him…Called Ben Daddy...”

“He’s not here! None of them are here!” Five explodes. “He was meant to be with _you,_ you useless quivering pukebag!” His voice raises to a shout at the end, his hands tugging wildly at his hair.

“Could you moan a little softer...please?” Klaus whimpers. “My everything is killing me.”

“No, I can’t moan a little softer you imbecile.” Five spits, pointing his finger angrily as he strides over. “That was our ticket home to 2019!” He roars.

Okay, that’s enough.

He shifts carefully, apologising softly as he lifts Klaus and sits him propped against the wall away from the lake of vomit (What had he eaten?!). Then he strides across to Five, and grabs him by the back of his blazer, dragging him away from Klaus.

“Christ Five, would it kill you to care for just one _fucking_ minute?” He hisses, glancing back at Klaus whose head has rolled to the side and seems to be hissing at his own vomit.

“Care? _Care?!_ ” Five splutters. “I think I’ve done nothing _but_ fucking _care_ Luther. I’ve worked my ass off since I got here, running around after you idiots. Then none of you can hold it together for ten fucking minutes to get Dad onboard. So I had to make a deal with the devil to get us home, and then they can’t even make a _simple deadline!_ ”

“Klaus just-”

“Klaus-smaus! Screw you Luther.” Five snarls. “You know what? It’s every sibling for himself now, how ‘bout that?” Five says, and blips away. Luther stares in shock, before turning to Klaus, who is swaying slightly as he gets up, arm propped against the wall for balance.

“Did Five just get meaner?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed chapter six! Here's my take on what Ben might have wanted that ten minutes for.... What do you think he wanted it for? It surprised me when he ran inside and not back to say bye to Jill....
> 
> And what do you think happened to the briefcase Five flung? Where/when did it go? I'm half inclined to believe it was a double cross and that briefcase was not set for apocalypse day 2019. Either way, what happened when it appeared at it's destination with no guardian? Did the handler send somebody to collect?  
> My personal theory at the moment? Unaccompanied briefcase + unknown [future?] destination = whatever caused us to have Sparrows not Umbrellas. It wasn't [just] the siblings sixties shenanigans at all.
> 
> I have a question - does anybody know if there is anywhere you can view the episode transcripts online? I have an idea burning away for another fic but I will need to look carefully at what is said and how it's said across most of season one to see if it will work, and I know if I try to watch the episodes to listen carefully I'll end up just watching it!
> 
> You might have noticed I've upped my chapter estimate to 8. It was seven, but chapter Seven has grown, so I have decided to split it so the lengths fit better with the rest of the chapters. I'm so excited to be so close to the end. Chapter seven is pretty much written and just needs editing to make sure chapter eight flows off it well once I've finished that. Hopefully Quake should be all finished and posted within the next week for you all!
> 
> Thank you for the continued Kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions (I got my first user subscription too, woweee!) and comments, you've all been so supportive and it's helped the writing process so much. If you have any (constructive) feedback on my writing style, characterisation, plot/pacing etc it would be appreciated - I would love to know what works and what could work better for future work :)


	7. Epicenter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epicenter, noun [ C ]: the point on the earth's surface directly above an earthquake or atomic explosion [Cambridge dictionary]
> 
> In which the siblings suffer a shock

**Excerpt from Sir Reginald Hargreeves’ notes, entry dated 12th October 1989**

_I have acquired seven of the of the children from the spontaneous births of 1st October 1989. After meeting the group of my supposed ‘children from the future’ in 1963 I was even less interested in children then I was previously, if such a thing were possible; however the circumstances surrounding these births is fascinating and I deem the children worth studying. I find myself hoping that I have escaped adopting the particular group of individuals I met, and console myself with the thought that these children are all precisely the same age, down to the minute. The previous set appeared to be anywhere from 29 to 35 years old, with the exception of the teenager who was admittedly the least off-putting. To further stack the odds in my favour, should I have had the misfortune to acquire those same children once more, I have elected to number the children as opposed to naming them._

* * *

“I wish I could say I can’t believe Dad kept so much information on us,” Allison says from where she’s rifling through a large box of paper files, stamped with a bold ‘3’ on the side. “- but I think I’d be lying. He really did write _everything_ down.” She is stood across the desk from Five, who is stood by the other stamped boxes they have found in their father’s office after returning to 2019. Next to him Vanya is pulling a face at her own box, which is significantly lighter on the paperwork than the rest. On the desk is an open bottle of wine they have been sharing as they start the long process of going through their father’s office and figuring out what to keep and what to burn. 

They have chosen on burning what they do not keep for two reasons. First, because after Vanya told them about their father’s journal that Harold had, they decided _nothing_ is safe to simply discard. The second reason is a bit pettier, in Five’s opinion, but Klaus and Diego had enthusiastically decided there was no bigger fuck-you they could give to their Father than a bonfire of all his ‘valuable’ work and/or belongings. 

What it really means is a lot of work to do - everything needs to be checked and read through before they can decide on what to burn, so they don’t accidentally get rid of anymore world-ending secrets such as siblings with hidden apocalyptic powers. 

They can hear the occasional soft thud and tearing of plastic wrapping from across the hall where Klaus is helping Luther. They have started to sort through and catalogue all the unopened samples and notes Luther had painstakingly sent home from his moon mission. For Luther it is because with the apocalypse finally averted, they can start to care about things like healing old wounds and gaining closure. For Klaus? It is a safe way to keep him busy, and for somebody to have an eye on him. He has been quiet and out of sorts since Vanya blew up the FBI building. Diego has spent the afternoon at the police station, giving a statement for the investigation into his friend Patch’s murder, but they are expecting him back soon. 

It is now April 2nd, 2019. They had arrived back on April 1st early enough for the house to still be standing (and Grace and Pogo with it) and by all accounts it seemed Herb and Dot had kept up their side of the deal, smoothing and tweaking the new timeline between the time of their departure in the sixties and their intended destination so they’d have a clear landing free of paradoxes, or potential meetings with any alternates selves. 

Five considers it a hard-earned retirement gift. 

Still, it hadn't prevented him from spending the afternoon tense and miserable nursing a glass of something strong in hand, waiting for something to happen. Well, he had indulged in the glass _after_ he had nipped to sort the problem that was a still-breathing-Harold-Jenkins and retrieved a certain red journal in his possession. But it hadn’t, the world _hadn’t ended_. Vanya had had to furiously practice her solo for most of the afternoon so she could blag her way through her concert as first chair after having not picked up a violin in weeks, but they had all made the effort to dress nicely and use the tickets she had reserved for them back in the first go-around. Five had simply changed to into a clean uniform (it was still all he had), but couldn’t help but be amused when Klaus had had a genuine crisis over maintaining his new cowboy aesthetic or wearing the frilly monstrosity he had previously claimed was his best outfit. 

Five had sat at the concert more tense than he had ever been in his life, unable to relax into the velvet seat. If the Commission were going to go back on their deal, this would be the time and place to do it. The original bomb and all the key players in one convenient location at the right time. But nothing had happened, no flooding of the theatre with agents, no snipers in the rafters, and as the concert progressed, he relaxed in spite of himself. Exhaustion and the power of the music (born this time of the hard work and skill of the musicians, and not of any miracle births or repressed powers) winning out over his paranoia. 

“I’m just glad he kept his notes well organised.” Five idly swirls his wine round his glass, thinking back to state of some of the case managers desks during his time in the Commission. He counts himself lucky that the orders he had received when working in corrections came with a word limit. “Think of the nightmare this could be otherwise.” He emphasises with a kick to his own box. 

“That’s true” Vanya replies “It can’t get much easier than having all our paperwork in our own labelled boxes. We could take these downstairs and we could all start looking through our own stuff together after Diego gets back.” 

“Let’s do that, if anybody wants to do theirs on their own then they can take their box to their room or something.” Allison decides, putting her glass on the side. “Afterwards we can go through Ben’s information together.” 

“I’ll go let Luther and Klaus know.” Five replies, draining the rest of his wine. “Then Luther can help carry them for us.” 

* * *

They don’t end up looking at the files until later in the evening, after sitting and sharing dinner together. When they first sat down Five had to swallow and take moment. Somehow, in the two weeks he had had them back, they hadn’t really sat down to eat together as a family (he did not include the clusterfuck that was the meeting with their Father). Sitting there, resolutely ignoring Ben’s empty seat across from him but surrounded by his surviving siblings - who for once were engaged in conversation rather than bickering - and about to tuck into a meal cooked by Grace, Five had finally felt something resembling peace. 

He wasn’t feeling the peace so much anymore. 

“Number Seven is a wilful child, stubborn against instruction and therefore difficult to train.” Vanya quotes to the room, reading from a paper file, glass of wine in hand. “Of the three children that have demonstrated powers thus far, Number Seven’s are the most volatile. If she cannot be taught discipline, then I may need to consider other methods to control such power.” She continues, arm waving for emphasis. Five leans away from the wine glass as it comes past. “What great parenting!” She crows, before downing the rest of her glass. 

Five snorts from where he is perusing the infamous red journal. He also has a glass of wine in hand, which he is idly swirling around the glass. His uniform blazer is draped across the back of the armchair, and he had loosened his tie and collar button after his first glass. 

“His report about me is equally glowing.” He informs her with a drawl, before idly flicking back a page and reading from the journal. “Number Five is over-confident, with an obstinate attitude and it will be to his detriment. His conduct at the dinner table today was deplorable and led to him running away declaring his intent to time travel. He is yet to make a reappearance. Likely he has used his power to jump across the city to sulk and will return sometime during the night when both the temperature and his temper cool. By some slim chance he has managed to achieve his goal, I expect he will turn up within the week – his estimation of his own abilities was always rather higher than reality.” Klaus cackles from where he’s perched on a bar stool. “I suppose he wasn’t wrong, in a way.” Five concludes. 

“I got my report card _in person_ , years ago.” Klaus butts in. “You are all looking at Daddy dearest’s biggest disappointment!” He toasts the room and takes a large swallow of his wine. “Ever the hard-ass, even in death.” 

“Um… guys?” Luther’s frowning at a sheet pulled from his own file. “Do any of you remember a training incident when we were…” He double checks the date. “...Six?” Five frowns, trying to think back. 

“Uh, no?” Diego. 

“No I don’t think so-“ Vanya. 

“-wasn’t every training session an incident?” Allison. 

“Huh.” Luther replies. “I don’t think-” 

“Wait, do you mean when I broke my jaw?” Klaus pipes up. “That was during training wasn't it?” 

“But why would that be in Luther’s file?” Allison asks. Klaus shrugs. “What does it say?” 

“Um, I’m not sure, but -” Luther says, then reads the entry aloud. 

“ **April 1st, 1996**

_“I believe that Number One’s power may have begun to manifest at last. Grace has reported that for the last two mornings Number One has complained of aching muscles beyond that expected of their daily fitness routines. Then there was the accident this afternoon during outdoor combat training (see incident files). Based on what occurred my initial hypothesis is a physical ability, including but not necessarily limited to enhanced strength._

_This supports previous speculation that the more physically taxing abilities are slower to present due to the host needing to have sufficient strength to support such powers. Further testing will be required to determine the full extent of Number One’s abilities and if it is a permanently manifested power or perhaps more limited combat-triggered ability. In the meantime, hand-to-hand combat, defence, and sparring have been replaced with additional fitness and technique training. Priority: Engineer a situation for Number One to ‘discover’ his ability.”_ Luther trails off at the end with a frown. It doesn’t sound like it was to do with Klaus’ accident. And Dad has known about his ability before he did? He specifically created a scenario for him to _discover_ it in? 

By the time he’s finished Klaus is rifling through his box to find a medical file, muttering about how he’s “sure that was in ‘96”. With a triumphant “a-hah!” he waves it in the air, spilling loose sheets around him before flicking through. 

“Found it!” He crows. “April 1st, 1996. Number Four. Injuries sustained: minor abrasions, bruised ribs and broken jaw (requiring minor surgery) suffered from the fall. Also sustained a fractured skull,” Klaus slows down, eyebrows drawing into a frown, “leading to immediate loss of consciousness, followed by a coma, brain bleed and suspected TBI.” He looks up. “What’s a TBI?” 

“A fractured skull?” Allison blurts 

Vanya goes pale. “A brain bleed!” 

“Wait, what? You were in a coma?” Diego near shouts. “How do we not remember that?” 

“Uhhhhh” Klaus looks back his file and continues. “Number Four’s coma lasted -hah- four days. On waking there was extraordinarily little coherency, and consciousness was only regained for a matter of minutes.” He drops the file onto the bar. 

Luther swallows, and forces his hands to unclench from his own file, is about to speak when Five hisses loudly through his teeth, eyes flicking rapidly down the page of the red journal as he stops thumbing through the pages. 

“A TBI,” he drawls, anger betrayed only by the whiteness of his knuckles as he grips the pages. “is a Traumatic Brain Injury.” He takes a large swallow his wine before cutting over the uproar. 

_“Number Four remains unconscious even 48 hours post-accident. The chance of Number Four regaining consciousness is still approximately 60%, with the chances of full recovery now dropping below that. The chances of Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) and associated symptoms are now significant. It is too early to tell if this will have an impact on Number Four’s ability to commune with the dead.”_

He pauses, whilst Klaus whispers hysterically how ‘of course that’s what he was worried about’. 

_“The rest of the children remain unaware of this and have been led to believe Number Four is recovering only from a broken jaw due to the fall on the steps and is on heavy medication. The ruse is currently being maintained by increased ‘team building’ exercises to replace free time, preventing spontaneous visits to the infirmary. Any visits to the infirmary are supervised by Grace and restricted to the ten minutes before bedtime when Number Four may conceivably be ‘resting’ after receiving his evening medication.”_

It's only because Luther can’t peel his eyes off Five, reeling from the shock, that he sees the tightening of Five’s squint, the tick in his jaw. And with a sick feeling he _knows._ Whatever is coming next is not going to be any better. 

“ _Today I confirmed the general nature of Number One’s ability - allowing him to ‘discover’ his increased strength by having the children lift ever increasing weights until they could lift no longer (this had an additional benefit of stoking Number Two’s competitive spirit, perhaps this will drive him to do better). Number One’s strength is already that of a grown man, but that alone could not have caused the injury to Number Four from a single unarmed blow to the head. My current hypothesis is that higher levels of adrenaline may potentially cause an increase in Number One’s enhanced strength by perhaps double again.”_ Five trails off. 

“Oh my god.” Vanya whispers. Everybody is staring at Luther in horror, except Klaus who is staring blankly at the wall behind Five. 

And Luther 

Can’t 

Think. 

_Oh shit. Oh shit. What did he do? He hurt Klaus? He put him in a fucking_ coma _when they were_ six?! He _broke Klaus’ jaw, cracked his skull?_

“I-” 

Is as far as he gets before Allison is screaming as Klaus falls out of his chair with a bang, his body seizing between the bar stools. “Oh SHIT, he’s hit his head, he’s bleeding!” 

* * *

**Excerpt from Sir Reginald Hargreeves’ notes, entry dated 7th September 1996**

_The nature of Number Four’s gifts appears to have altered, perhaps permanently. Previously there were, by all accounts, a mixture of benevolent and more belligerent spirits, who generally appeared as they had in life and could hold some semblance of conversation. At the start of the year Number Four had begun to make significant progress, being able to consistently conjure spirits, and improving on his ability to conjure specific individuals. Number Four had begun to practice the skill of manifesting the spirits to be visible to others, and on the few occasions he had achieved a manifestation these spirits could be interviewed and responded to questions. His potential was looking extremely promising._

_Before his brain damage Number Four held little fear with regards to spirits in general, although was intolerably anxious about the more aggressive spirits, and seemed to have good recognition of which individuals in the room were alive and which were deceased. Following this change Number Four is becoming increasingly fearful of his power, stunting his progress. Despite application of both encouragement and discipline Number Four has yet to manifest a single spirit, and often spends a great deal of his individual training in tears._

_From his descriptions it appears that the spirits now appear to him in the state in which they died (note: may be prudent to invest in forensic training for Number Four, in order that he can deduce information about their deaths even when a spirit is incapable of verbal communication). He flinches and startles easily now, and I believe his ability to consciously conjure has regressed significantly. He is unable, or unwilling, to conjure specific spirits with which he was familiar before and is unable to successfully return them to the spiritual plane. Instead Number Four seems to be unconsciously conjuring the unsettled spirits near constantly, fuelling his fear and seemingly diminishing his control further. Should this situation not resolve itself through routine training over the coming weeks, further action may be required to attempt to rid Number Four of this fear and shock him back into conscious control once more._

* * *

Five can’t believe what he’s reading. Klaus suffered a traumatic brain injury as a child, was _in a coma for four days_ and none of them knew? None of them knew, because Reginald covered it up along with the fact that _Luther_ had caused it?! 

For a second Five appreciates just how dangerous they were as children before they could control their powers. Then he is startled from his rage by a loud crash, followed by Allison’s scream and pained grunting from the floor as Klaus seizes on the floor. 

“Oh SHIT, he’s hit his head,” Allison shouts, as she lunges from her chair to try and cushion his head off the floor. “He’s bleeding!!” she reports as her hands slide into his curls to lift his head onto her knees. 

Fives eye catches on the edge of the bar, which is smeared with red. No. 

No, no, no, no, NO! 

His fists are glowing blue, he sees Vanya’s rush to pass Allison a cushion slow to halt, and everything hovers for a perfect, still blue second before it begins to rewind, Luther’s arm coming down from where he’d half stood, Allison’s hands retreating, stepping away, Klaus rising, back into the chair and- 

Time snaps back into place like an elastic band. 

Fives head lifts from the book and turns to Klaus so fast he is surprised his neck doesn’t crack, and there – Klaus twitches, begins to go rigid- 

Five jumps. 

He’s at the bar, left hand gripping Klaus’ arm, right cradling his face before he blips away again, landing in the middle of the rug just in time to lay Klaus down as he starts to seize, kneeling with his head protected from the floor in Five’s lap – copying what he had seen Luther do in the alleyway behind Elliott’s. 

This time Allison’s scream is of surprise as Five appears and blinks away from her side rapidly without warning. Klaus is letting out pained grunts as his head jerks in Fives lap, his jaw and neck tight as the rest of his body jumps itself off the floor and slams back down again. It's not ideal but at least there’s nothing for him to hit himself on, Five tries to console himself. You did what you could in the seconds you had. 

Amazing how mere seconds seem to be what it takes to save his family now. 

He hates to think Reginald’s advice might have had been better than he wanted to credit. Especially after what they have just uncovered, and what it may mean about what he thinks he knows about his brother…. 

“Oh my god Five, how did you catch him so fast-” Allison asks as she couches next to him. Klaus’ seizure begins to ebb, his body not so much relaxing as _seeping_ into the floor, his head becoming a deadweight in Fives lap, his eyelids fluttering once, twice before they fall closed and his heavy gasping eases. 

“Time travel. But more importantly, why does he keep having seizures?” 

* * *

**Excerpt from Sir Reginald Hargreeves’ notes, entry dated 1st October 1997**

_I am forced to conclude that the probability that the change in Number Four’s powers is permanent is high. The last year has yielded little results in the attempt to regain Number Four’s control of his abilities. At eight years old he cannot achieve even the most basic skills that he had begun to master three years ago prior to the brain damage. In the interests of thoroughness, I regressed and repeated his early training regime for several months in order to retrain the ability, but this has proved to have no significant results._

_Using the observations from the repeated regime, and comparing back to the original training, I then devised a series of alternative exercises based on the differences I could observe. These also proved to make little difference in Number Four’s control. Thus, followed a series of experiments by where the same simple exercise was repeated everyday under different conditions, the aim of which was to determine what factors may be influencing Number Four’s power (For detailed account of methods used and results obtained see experimental observations file #4)._

_Location did not have a statistically significant effect on Four’s ability to conjure a specified spirit, with approximately equal rates of failure and success observed; However, location did appear to have a significant influence on the number of incidental spirits present. The success rate based on the time of day appeared entirely random in nature. From what could be determined the effect of varied energy levels (calorie intake, amount of sleep and time since last rest were all tested individually) appeared to have a greater effect on Number Four’s attitude and concentration, than on the actual connection to the dead._

_Based on these results I will cease systematic testing of potential influential factors and begin a phase of exposure and shock treatments. The aim of these tests is two-fold – firstly to determine if Number Four can be trained out of his juvenile fear through repeated experiences with the spirits, and secondly will a significantly intense experience, and the associated adrenaline, cause an instinctual response to control his ability perhaps reopening the pathway to conscious control._

_Mausoleum trials will begin tonight after the evening meal._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some more Klaus whump, because lets be honest more is more, a small serving of Luther-guilt and a side of Five redemption after his tantrum last chapter. This chapter also fulfils the first prompt for Five to teleport to catch a seizing Klaus.
> 
> Something I found interesting - I looked back through the episode, and the transcripts (thanks Siriuspiggyback for the tip!) and nowhere that I could see is Five’s name mentioned to, around or by Reggie. Does anybody else find it interesting that Reggie has seemingly no knowledge he numbered them, but went on to number the second set too? Anyway this lead to me having the theory (for this fic at least) that part of the reason he numbered them was to avoid getting the children he met in the sixties (jokes on him). For clarity, in case its needed, the sparrow academy doesn't exist here. At the point where they jumped back to 2019 we diverted from canon plot entirely.
> 
> I hope that this has started to answer some questions (and maybe throw up a few more). I'd love to know what you are thinking now, what questions you want answering and any theories you have. Firstly because I genuinely want to know, and secondly because I'm still throwing words on the paper for the final chapter and I'm currently trying to figure out all the loose ends I need to cover and which ones I should prioritise. Just to set expectations this last chapter may take me a little longer than my normal 2-3 days to get out because I'll need to check, check and check again that I'm covering everything, but I do aim to have it out by the end of the week.
> 
> Once again thank you so much for your support <3 I've felt so welcomed and encouraged as a first time writer.
> 
> [edit] I have noticed that on posting I seem to have acquired additional spaces around formatted words - I don't have time right now to fix this but for those who find this off-putting I will edit the chapter carefully to try to fix the problem within the next 24 hours!
> 
> [edit2] I've now edited out the extra spaces, hopefully it's a little more comfortable to read now. Also, this chapter has now tipped the story into 300+ Kudos <3 I can't believe how much love this little story has got, thank you. Also shout out to the reader who bookmarked this purely for the Reginald journal entries and described them as 'that shits something else' - you genuinely had me laughing out loud and grinning ear to ear when I read that.


	8. Aftershocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They all get some answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, enjoy the finale! Full notes at the end :) 
> 
> Quick FYI: the stanford marshmallow experiment https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stanford_marshmallow_experiment is an experiment by where a child is given a marshmallow (or edible treat of preference). They are told by the adult that they are going to leave, but if the child does not eat the treat by the time they get back, they will be given another and can eat them both. If the child eats the treat when the adult leaves, they do not get another.

**Excerpt from Sir Reginald Hargreeves’ notes, entry dated 1 st October 1998**

_Following the annual routine testing of the children I have reviewed Number Fours results, and the outcome is not favourable. As a young child Number Four always performed well in tests of memory, above average for logic and satisfactorily for general intelligence. His physical results were always adequate. Between the age of four- and six-years old Number Four could consistently demonstrate restraint in the Stanford marshmallow experiment in order to receive a larger reward. The only other child that could also do this at that age was Number Five._

_Since Number Four’s injury in 1996 he has dropped from above average performance in both the physical testing and the general mental and cognitive testing to being one of the weaker children. Physically he still suffers from ataxia and a lesser level of overall coordination, making him weak in combat. He has been unable to pass the Stanford test even once since the accident, typically eating the marshmallow within the first minute of being left unsupervised; This is despite altering the test to apply discipline should he fail to wait. Such adjustments have proven sufficient to teach even Numbers Two, Six, and Seven to pass the test consistently over the past 18 months. Unfortunately, it appears not to be simply a lack of willpower or theoretical understanding of delayed gratification, but a more widespread impulse control problem which is leading to general misbehaviour, distraction, and overall poor performance._

_It is a pity. Number Four used to be one of the more promising children._

* * *

Everything hurts.

Again.

Klaus sighs deeply. He’s really getting tired of this game, he’d honestly thought that perhaps this was over after he got sober, but his head is killing him. It’s not helped by the whispering he can hear, but when he turns his head that stops. He lets out a pleased hum.

“Klaus?”

He frowns, it’s not wakey-wakey time yet. With a groan he curls up on his side and tries to bury his face into the cushion his head is resting on. His fingers grasp loosely at the blanket covering him.

He drifts.

“-been seizing since we were kids?” That sounds like Five… “No…I’d remember if he did this.”

“No, he didn’t start with seizures until after you left.” And Vanya?

“Well, what causes them then?” Ding ding! The million-dollar question. He thinks mildly.

“Well, we always thought it was the drugs…. He started those about the same time, I think. Maybe there’s something in his files?” Allison says. Maybe it's time to wake up and join the conversation, Klaus thinks.

He really doesn’t want too.

When he does peel his eyes open he’s greeted by blurry red and gold – it looks like he’s using one of the good cushions as a pillow – and he drags his hand out from under the blanket to rub the blurriness away. When he rolls his head back and looks around the room, he sees his siblings looking like they have frozen mid-conversation, with their heads turned to stare at him.

“Hey guys” He murmurs.

“Klaus!” Vanya pipes up from the floor nearby. “How are you feeling?”

“Shit.” He’ll work his way back up to sarcasm. When his head stops feeling like a storm cloud. He starts to push himself up, flinching when Diego reaches out to grasp his arm and help him sit up. “What set me off this time?”

“You remember what happened?” Five butts in before anybody can answer.

Klaus worries the edge of the blanket in his lap. “Ish? S’a bit fuzzy.” He frowns, trying to bring his memory into focus. “I was sat at the bar? Remember being upset.” And then, he guesses, he had a seizure.

“Yeah, that’s right” Allison says. “You had a seizure. Five caught you before you could fall off the stool.” Huh. Maybe Five cared after all. What happened to being a pukebag?

“I shouldn’t have called you that.” Five is frowning, looking at dear old Dads journal which is spread open in his lap. “I was angry, and it was unnecessary.” He says stiffly.

Well, colour Klaus pink, that was very nearly an apology.

“How many seizures have you had recently Klaus?” Luther asks. His voice is tight, and he barely looks up from where he’s staring at his hands with a frown. “You had a seizure at the dinner, and another in the alley, and with this one that makes three in under a week?” Klaus hums in agreement. That sounds about right.

Diego returns from the bar, pressing a glass of cool water into Klaus’ hands. “Is that normal now? I don’t remember you having them that often.”

“Not really.” Klaus pauses to sip at the water. “Had one not long after I landed in 1960, when the shock of being stuck there on my own really hit. Didn’t have another one until dinner with pops.” He sighs, then mutters “-fucking Ben’s fault.”

“Ben’s fault?” Diego repeats. “How is it Ben’s fault you had a seizure at dinner?”

Five’s fingers curl around the journal edges. “But Klaus said -”

"-Ben didn’t make to the sixties.” Allison says at the same time, frowning at Diego.

“No, no he did” Diego says, breaking into a smile. “I spoke to him in Dallas when he was possessing Klaus, it was amazing.” Yeah, for him perhaps, Klaus thinks gloomily, but it was bit shit from his side of things.

“What-”

“Possessed Klaus?”

“Are you sure it was-”

“-the fuck?”

Their gazes swing from Diego to Klaus. Well shit, he didn’t really want to talk about this...

“Wait, wait, wait. Ben can possess you?” Luther asks, “Since when could you be possessed?”

The use of present tense hits Klaus like a punch (and Vanya by the look of it). Ben _can_ possess you. Like Ben is still here, still with him. He tries to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat, wonders how (if) he is going to break the news to them that this time Ben _really_ didn’t travel with them. He nods weakly, with a sniff, dropping his gaze down to the glass in his hands.

“He sure did.” Klaus drawls, saluting weakly with his glass, trying hard to pretend he is enjoying the dumbfounded looks on his family’s faces (and hoping they don’t notice the past tense).

“Hold on a minute,” Five glances at Diego then back to Klaus, “You said it was Ben’s fault – do you mean it was _Ben’s_ fault you had a seizure?” He sounds slightly incredulous as he says it, but when Klaus peeks up at him, he sees that whilst Five is looking at him intently it’s not necessarily with disbelief.

“Yeah” He rasps. He clears his throat a little. “Little shit-heel decided to jump on in here with no warning at dinner. Didn’t know how to handle all this hot stuff, so he clattered around a bit until the seizure knocked him out again. I’m led to believe it made _quite_ the impression on dad.”

“So that’s what you meant in the elevator…” Allison breathes. “I thought maybe you’d started blaming your seizures on some evil spirits or something for your cult!” Klaus snorts. To be fair that would be perfectly on brand.

“But Ben possessed you again?” Vanya asks with a frown. “He must have done if he spoke with Diego...” Klaus hums.

“Yeah, at the mansion. I went to get Klaus, but it was Ben.” Diego frowns. “But we split up, and Lila kidnapped me. Ben was meant to get Klaus to the alley on time – did none of you get to talk to him?” 

Looks like nobody filled Diego in that he wasn’t the only one that didn’t make it to the alley.

“Wait, so when you said ‘ _we made it’_ -”

“That was Ben?”

Luther and Five cut across each other. Klaus winces and nods.

Luther looks stunned. “Holy shit...but wait. You… you said, ‘get out’ and then had another seizure. That was Ben as well?”

“Hmm, well, yes and no,” Klaus hedges. “For all his faults I don’t think Benny-boy was trying to kick me out of my own body.” Thank god. He hates to think how that would have gone down. “He did want to call it borrowing, not stealing.”

“Klaus!” Oh boy, he knows he’s in trouble when Allison _and_ Five tell him off.

“Fine.” He whines. “I’d had enough, I wanted my body back, so I tried to get him out.”

“Tried?”

“Well, you know, Ben can be as stubborn as any bastard, and after Diego here told him to stay in charge...” and fuck if that hadn’t hurt, “Well he wasn’t letting go so easily.”

“You fought Ben out and then had a seizure?”

“No, we had that seizure together. I couldn’t get him out – do you really think I could take back control from somebody who spent his life keeping control of the horror?” He says, slightly hysterical, “Speaking off, I’m fairly sure they were a non-paying guest at casa de Klaus too!”

They all look fairly horrified at that at least.

“…So, Ben was possessing you _during_ your seizure?” Five sounds thoughtful.

“Yeah – both times! – second time the little prick didn’t come out until I literally threw him up.” Luther looks a little green at that, and Klaus remembers he held him out of the vomit. “Thanks for not letting me land in all the puke by the way man.”

“Err, no problem.” Luther says, looking non-plussed. “If Ben was possessing you both times you had a seizure…. did he cause them?”

“Holy shit bro – Is that why you have seizures? Because you are literally possessed?” Diego asks, eyes wide at he stares at him.

“Was Ben possessing you before, at the bar?” Allison looks up from where she had started rifling through the files again. Hang on, is that his box?

“No. Are those my files?”

“No to what? And yes, they are, I’m trying to find where the rest of your medical records are, it’s not in order.”

Klaus pouts. “Is there no such thing as privacy anymore? No Ben wasn’t possessing me at the bar-” he blinks furiously – he will _not_ be crying over that asshole again today, thank you. “No, I haven’t always been possessed when I’m having a seizure, or at least I think not. Did Ben cause me to have seizures? Absolutely, the bastard.”

“He told me about it.” Vanya says quietly. Klaus flinches, when on earth had she moved to sit next to him? “When he helped me at the FBI building. He said it hurt so bad he couldn’t concentrate to hold on anymore.”

“Yeah, well, once my body learnt it worked, I think it became the auto-eject. I guess it realised I couldn’t fight him out by myself and thought well, let’s try a seizure!” Klaus tries to laugh it off. “It’s like it’s my mind’s favourite response to stress.”

“He also said-”

And just like that, he remembers what had set him off.

A TBI.

A.

Traumatic.

Fucking.

Brain.

Injury.

“Shit.” He whimpers. He puts the glass down and grasps the blanket with trembling hands. “Shit, I remember what set me off before. I had a brain injury when I broke my jaw? And Dad hid it?” Allison and Vanya wince and Five leans towards him, as if he is going to go for a second round of bashing his head on the floor. Luther leans back so fast you would think Klaus had breathed fire.

He wishes he could breathe fire. It would be a much cooler power.

Luther looks ready to cry as he fists his hands together. “Klaus I’m so sorr-”

“-It seems so, yes.” Five speaks over him, in a very level, controlled tone Klaus is more used to hearing from the psychologists at rehab. “Allison was looking through your files while you were out, to try and find out more. Do you want to know what we found?”

Does he? He’s not sure. Four days unconscious, a brain bleed, and a brain injury his father covered up and hid behind a broken jaw sounds bad enough to him. Sounds fucking awful actually.

He still nods.

“Okay, so… it’s not good.” Allison bites her lip. “In fact, it’s pretty awful, it seems Dad really put in the effort to cover this up for years.” Klaus spots Luther bury his head in his hands across the room, a glisten on his cheeks. _Is he… crying?_

That’s not okay.

He pushes himself off the floor, ignoring his trembling arms and gently shushes Allison as he shuffles over to sit next to Luther on the couch, who flinches away from him.

“Hey, no, no, big guy there’s no need to cry-” he plucks at his sleeve as he leans again his arm. “-I’m alright see? It was a long time ago.”

Luther remains hunched over, head shaking in his hands. "I'm sorry, it’s my fault-”

Klaus closes his eyes tiredly and leans his head on Luther’s shoulder. “It was an accident. We were kids. And hey, look I’m long over it. Sure, having my jaw wired shut _sucked,_ but no lasting damage.”

“Well, actually,” Allison says gently, “It looks like there were some long-lasting effects.” Klaus opens his eyes in time to see her swallow and glance down at the papers in her hands. “For one, it seems the trauma to your brain caused you to have acquired ataxia-”

“What’s ataxia?”

“Coordination problems, broadly speaking.” Five says, leaning forward on his elbows. “For you? Above average clumsiness, which apparently none of us realised and Dad was all too happy to blame on inattention.”

“Huh, Ben did have a good bitch afterward his drive about how my legs didn’t like to behave on their own.” Klaus says. “I thought he was just exaggerating again.”

Allison shakes her head. “I don’t think so, from these notes it looks like you weren’t particularly clumsy before the accident,” her gaze flicks to Luther with a wince, “but started afterwards. It does looks like it got a bit better as you got older, but it got worse again when you, ah, discovered drugs.”

“It’s actually kind of impressive you managed to get and then stay sober by yourself, because apparently it also damaged the part of your brain responsible for impulse control.” Vanya sniffles, “I couldn’t stop myself-”

“Vanny-”

“-no, I’m fine, this shouldn’t be about me.” Klaus isn’t convinced, but she’s making a good effort to blink back tears, so he’ll pretend to believe her.

“It also says you suffered from something called an absence seizure?” Allison says tentatively. “We’re not really sure what that is, but from Dad’s notes it seems like it’s when you zone out and don’t remember.”

“I’m sorry,” Luther turns his head to looks sideways at Klaus, “for when I shouted at you as kids, thought you weren’t paying attention in training, or on missions.” His voice wobbles. “I blamed you for something _I_ caused-”

“Woah, no, no, no.” Klaus pets his arm, trying to be reassuring. “It’s okay, I bet half the time I probably really _wasn’t_ paying attention during training. You don’t have to apologise.”

“It’s Dads fault.” Diego says, spinning a knife. “He knew, and he hid it. We were kids, how were we meant to know?” He points the knife at Luther. “You didn’t know your power at that point, you were just doing as you were told and sparring with Klaus. _We were six._ Like Klaus said, it was an accident. What he should have done was tell us, so we could have helped Klaus.”

Hang on a minute. “Hey, what do you mean by that? I didn’t need help-”

Allison holds her hands in the air. “I think Diego just means that if we’d known we could have supported you-”

“I’m clumsy and I don’t concentrate. So what? Loads of people are like that-”

“Most of them don’t have superpowers, a brain injury and unexplained seizures either.” Five snaps. “When did they start? Because I don’t remember them from before I jumped, and nobody else can quite agree how old you were when they did start and if it was the drugs that caused them.”

“I was ten okay!” Klaus cries. “I had some really bad individual training sessions, and I was _terrified_ of them okay, and one day I got so upset about it I had a seizure and woke up in the infirmary.” He takes a breath, tries to stop his knee that has started bouncing up and down. “That’s usually how it goes, I get too upset about something, or possessed too now I guess, and my body defaults to trying to shake it out.”

“Wait, what?”

“-thought they started at 14-”

“-how come we didn’t _know?_ ”

Klaus sighs, tugs his knees up to his chest and curls further into Luther's warm side.

“I don’t know? It never came up. I didn’t want to be any weaker than I already was on the team.” He mumbles. “To be fair, I think the drugs made them worse, Daddy dearest didn’t seem to think I needed medication for them until they started happening more regularly and could affect missions.” He shrugs.

“Shit Klaus, we wouldn’t have thought-”

“Yeah well, kids think stupid things.” He decides not to add how he still worries about it sometimes, for all that he’s at peace with the fact he has seizures. “Anyway, you don’t need to worry about them so much. I went nearly three years without them in the sixties – turns out sobriety is useful for something – so as long as I don’t get too upset or end up possessed again...”

“And that’s it? You’re okay with that?” Five says incredulously, eyebrows raised.

“Well, yeah I think so?” He says, trying very hard not to let his voice wobble. “I’m used to them, I’ve been like this for as long as I can remember. _This is normal for me_.” He continues quickly, hoping they don’t notice the hitch in his voice. “I mean, this is shit. Really shit. Dad just never stops becoming an even bigger asshole than I thought, and I’ll probably have another freak out later, but I’ll be okay? Eventually?”

He feels himself lose the battle to hold back his tears. Vanya already has tears on her cheeks, and Allison and Diego’s eyes look a little wet. Five looks kind of constipated. Klaus turns, and buries himself under Luther’s arm, seeking comfort like he had back on Vanya’s farm when he wasn’t sure which battle he was in.

And when Luther tightens his arm, pulls him close into a real hug, his own tears dripping into Klaus’ hair, Klaus can even pretend it is true. It’s shit, and Ben is gone, and he’s going to have to tell them soon (but not now, not now). He has brain damage apparently and maybe that explains so many things, and maybe not all of his problems were entirely his fault.

Maybe.

But for now, he’s exhausted. His head hurts, and his heart hurts and he can’t take anymore. He curls into Luther’s arms and sobs.

He’ll be okay, he tells himself.

Eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the conclusion to Quake! What did you think? Did this answer your questions? Isn't Reggie just the worst? What was your favourite part (of the chapter or the story?)? I'd love to know. I also love to discuss head cannons and theories, feel free to comment with those too!
> 
>  **End of story gratitude waffling:**  
>  What can I say except thank you so much for all the love and encouragement <3 I hope you have enjoyed Quake, and that the original prompters, should they ever read this, enjoyed it too.
> 
> This story has been such a learning experience. I randomly got hit by an urge to write rather than just read, so I found some inspiration in a prompt and I ran with it. I used the momentum of your kudos and comments and feedback to fuel me and whilst that's been fabulous (never thought I'd write 17k in two weeks) and has gotten me through to completion on my first story, I have decided I'm not doing that again - next time I'm writing first and only posting once I'm well in to editing! I hope the writing got better as the story went along - I certainly felt like I found my stride more in the second half. I've now found some writing podcasts I intend to start listening too so that I can make my next story even better.
> 
> Anyway, enough waffling. Thank you again for joining me on this journey!

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt spoilers!!!!**
> 
> https://umbrellakink.dreamwidth.org/284.html?thread=1277980#cmt1277980  
> "Just have a vision of klaus starting to seize and five teleporting to him to stop him falling and hitting his head."
> 
> and  
> https://umbrellakink.dreamwidth.org/284.html?thread=1298204#cmt1298204  
> "When they where kids (under 7 years old) Luther's power was discovered in a sparring match with either Diego or Klaus, when his super strength caused one of his punches to crack Diego or Klaus's skull resulting in a traumatic brain injury.
> 
> Reginald covered it up, made sure somehow none of them would remember this incident and then blamed all the long term effects of a traumatic brain injury on Diego or Klaus being lazy/difficult/stupid etc (and probably blames their powers for the physical side effects like dizziness, epilepsy, headaches etc).
> 
> Would love if maybe everyone finds out the truth about the injury after Reginald's death - like all the siblings are going through their medical records and find out that way - cue Luther feeling guilty (for causing the damage and for believing Reginald about it all those years)"


End file.
